11
Murdock Ranch
FRIDAY, JUNE 29, 1906
Just when Jake thought his life couldn’t possibly become more complicated, it did. He didn’t know what happened. He’d looked forward to having Hattie spend the summer at the ranch. She was the only person who still regarded him with unquestioning approval. Lord knew his own wife didn’t, and it ate at him. It also turned him cynical at inappropriate moments, a recently acquired quirk that threatened to affect his relationships with others.
Jane-Ellen’s view of him kept changing. One moment she treated him like a harmless friend. The next she regarded him with such revulsion it turned his blood cold, staring at him as if he were a ravening animal without the decency to leave her be. Or failing that, to at least confine his conjugal visits to the dark hours, suitably clothed so only the essentials touched. He invariably left her bed feeling like a sweaty, insensitive clod. As a consequence, he’d reduced his visits to almost nil. Hell, given how infrequently he’d made demands, it was a wonder she’d ever gotten pregnant.
But the pregnancy was a blessing to both of them. Jane-Ellen’s joy might stem in part from the fact that he no longer joined her in her chaste bed. Jake just flat out couldn’t wait until his child—this miraculous life he had helped to create—was born. His baby was going to be someone he’d love unconditionally, who would love him in return. Until then, he’d looked forward to Hattie’s company, to her quick wit, laughter, and adoration, expecting it to soothe his lacerated ego and soften his newfound cynicism. But something had changed her.
Her laughter wasn’t as frequent these days, at least with him. In fact, she seemed to apply great effort to avoiding him. Since coming to the ranch, she’d spent most of her time with Jane-Ellen. That was unusual in itself, given how difficult it had been coaxing Hattie indoors during her past visits. And while Jake had heard her husky laughter once or twice from the other side of a door, he’d given up trying to intrude on her visits with his wife. His entrance into any room Hattie occupied invariably caused her merriment to evaporate like morning mist under the rising sun.
He didn’t doubt she harbored some deep-seated anger toward him. What he didn’t know was why. What the hell had he ever done to her? And why didn’t she just come out and say what was bothering her? It wasn’t like Hattie to be so reticent. This was a young woman who yelled when she was angry and never hesitated to hurl accusations. Christ, she was sometimes outspoken to a dangerous degree. Yet she’d been at the ranch for nearly three weeks and had tried and convicted him of only God knew what.
Had she bothered to level any charges? Hell, no. Instead, she looked through him rather than at him. Left rooms when he walked in. Withheld her laughter. She punished him for a crime she wouldn’t identify. Jake didn’t know how to deal with her when she refused to present him with one tangible grievance he could address. And what was infinitely worse, her antagonism inexplicably incited him to notice her as a woman.
Like things weren’t bad enough. He had a wife who scorned his touch and his visits to the local whorehouse left him empty and emotionally depleted. But, dear God, to suddenly notice Hattie’s enticing curves? It would be ironic if it wasn’t so damn horrifying. He had loved that kid like a sister for years and she’d worshipped him in return. He’d adored the gutsy little girl, the fearless young woman. Appreciated her candor and her laughter, her unique way of looking at the world around her. And he loved her for the way she made him feel ten feet tall when the rest of his life left him feeling like shit. But he had never loved her the way a man loves a woman. Hell, before this visit, he hadn’t even noticed Hattie’s female attributes, except for the acknowledgment she was growing up. Now, this summer, everything had suddenly changed, including the way Jake viewed Hattie. And he feared there’d be no turning back.
She used to be kind of funny-looking. Hell, she still wasn’t beautiful in the current fashion. But there was something about that flaming mass of hair, those exotic amber eyes, that mouth. And, God, her body . . . Whatever happened to her sturdy little freckled chest? Or even the barely developed breasts she’d had when she was twelve, which was probably the last time he had noticed anything physical about her.
Jake began avoiding Hattie as assiduously as she avoided him. He couldn’t imagine making an improper advance toward her. Yet, sometimes he looked at her across the dinner table and the impulses running through his mind were so carnal in nature it nailed him to his chair.
Scared him to death. He wasn’t exactly overburdened with faith in his self-control these days. And the compulsion to frequent Mamie’s wasn’t half as compelling as what his imagination all of a sudden envisioned.
He began spending even longer hours than usual tending to ranch affairs. For the past eight days, he’d only come into the house to eat and sleep.
If this had been an ordinary summer, instead of hiding in the stables he would have cross-examined Hattie like a hostile witness until she broke down and told him why she was so mad at him. But he doubted anything would ever be ordinary again. His loneliness was exacerbated by these feelings for Hattie he had no business feeling and the need to police his actions for fear of doing something to blow this family apart.
Jake had a sinking feeling it was going to be a long summer.
Hattie picked up the telephone and removed the earpiece from its switch hook. The instrument was still new enough to give her a little thrill as she cradled the black receiver to her ear and raised the candlestick body until its mouth horn was a scant half inch from her lips.
“Central.”
“This is Murdock Ranch. Marks’ Barbershop, please.”
“One moment, please.” The line went silent—then blared with static, background voices, and Moses’ father’s voice snapping, “Confounded contraption. Still makes me jump whenever it rings. Hello! Marks’ Barbershop.”
Hattie jerked the earpiece from her ear. Mr. Marks always yelled into the mouthpiece, convinced the other party wouldn’t otherwise understand him. Hearing his voice, overloud and warm-toned, made Hattie visualize him in his shop as clearly as though she stood outside his big glass window. Snugging the receiver back against her ear, she said, “This is Hattie, Mr. Marks. Is Moses available?”
“Hello, young lady,” Mr. Marks yelled with his customary cheerfulness. “How are you? Hang on, missy. Moses is out sweepin’ the sidewalk. Moses!” he bellowed. “Call for you, son.”
Hattie barely took the time to greet Moses when he picked up the receiver. “Can you meet me at the creek? I’ve gotta get outside for a while or explode.”
“Sure.”
“Thank you! How long before you can get free?”
“Hold on. Dad? You need me anymore this afternoon?” Hattie heard a blurred exchange of words; then Moses’ voice once again grew clear and strong. “Hat? Meet you in about twenty minutes.”
“You, my friend, are wonderful. Bring your suit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed with a laugh. And broke the connection.
Hattie practically skipped to the creek. Lordy, it felt delightful being out of doors. She loved and admired Jane-Ellen dearly, but sometimes Hattie was so bored with their conversations she felt she would shatter and be blown to the four corners of the earth if she didn’t get out.
Hattie had been the subject of too much gossip to enjoy speculating about other people’s foibles and possible indiscretions. And interesting as fashion could occasionally be, she figured one could say all there was to say about it in thirty minutes flat.
She loved speculating about Jake and Jane-Ellen’s baby, however. One day Jane-Ellen’s entire stomach abruptly rolled to one side. It was the bulliest spectacle Hattie had ever witnessed. She would’ve dearly loved to jump up and rest her hand atop Jane-Ellen’s enormous stomach to feel the movement. Shame that Jane-Ellen was so reticent about physical contact.
Hattie knew she and the older woman had little in common, likely because even when Jane-Ellen and Jake still lived in Aunt Augusta’s house they hadn’t spent the sort of concentrated time together they were spending these days. Hattie was accustomed to reading the paper, then carrying on lively debates about the issues at mealtimes with Aunt Augusta—and before this summer, with Jake. Jane-Ellen didn’t read the paper because it made her hands dirty. Neither did she like conversations about ranch business.
In fact, if Hattie wasn’t so disgusted with Jake she would almost feel sorry for him, for it was quite obvious Jane-Ellen didn’t appreciate the way he tracked ranch dirt through the house or occasionally appeared in her immaculate parlor in his sweat-stained work clothes.
Hell’s bells, Jane-Ellen and her guests had nearly swooned the afternoon Jake disrupted their luncheon party by barging through the dining room clad in work-worn Levi’s and an unbuttoned shirt that flapped behind him. He’d made some attempt to wipe blood from his forearms, but it must have been pretty darn slapdash because rusty brown smears still adorned his arms from wrist to elbow.
He explained a bit tersely that he’d just delivered a foal. The mare had suffered through a particularly difficult labor, but Hattie had a feeling she was the only one who understood why he might like a tot of whiskey to celebrate with his foreman. And given Jane-Ellen’s own advancing pregnancy, he probably could have put a little less stress on the labor difficulty. All told, however, Hattie had secretly wondered which offended the good ladies more, Jake’s open shirt and blood splatter or his lack of temperance.
Later that night, in her room down the hall, Hattie had heard Jake yelling as he’d defended his interruption of the afternoon entertainment. Jane-Ellen’s voice had been indistinct, but Hattie didn’t doubt the other woman was giving him the very devil over his lack of decorum.
Not that he didn’t deserve it, but . . . Was nothing ever quite what it seemed? Why was it, this summer, that everything appeared to be just slightly off-kilter?
Jane-Ellen was perfect, wasn’t she? The feminine ideal. She walked, talked, and dressed with elegance and decorum, a splendid example of social success, according to Aunt Augusta. Why, then, did Hattie know it would drive her purely simpleminded if she had to live with her full-time?
Not that it in any way excused what Jake had done. Hattie had always considered him the strongest, the most honorable man in the world. But what he did was wrong. Totally, absolutely wrong. So, why didn’t he seem to care what she thought of him? He had at first; she could tell. But lately, he was never even around to ignore, and when he was around, he ignored her.
Confusing, confusing, confusing.
Hattie beat Moses to the rock pool. She went behind a tree and removed her shirtwaist, walking skirt, and petticoat and draped them over a bush. She sat down to remove her shoes and stockings, which left her clad only in a chemise and a pair of boys’ swim trunks, which she’d convinced Moses to purchase for her in Norton’s Mercantile. She couldn’t get enough of the sense of freedom her skimpy attire afforded her, especially when it came to gliding through the water. It didn’t occur to her how immodest it was. The only person to see it, after all, was Moses.
It occurred to Moses. It was a shock to circle a large boulder and see Hattie sitting in the sun, wearing only what amounted to her underwear. Jeez, she wasn’t even wearing the flannel shirt with the ripped-off sleeves she usually wore.
His father had finally come through on his promised graduation excursion to Mamie Parker’s place, and Moses was no longer ignorant of the ways of men and women. He was, in fact, a dedicated convert, having taken to the sins of the flesh like a cat to cream. He thought about it constantly, remembering and reliving that astounding night and those that followed. And pausing in the shade of the boulder to covertly eye Hattie, he had to admit it was disturbing that she’d willingly flaunt herself in front of him like he was some harmless gelding. Didn’t she realize he was a man now, and therefore dangerous to appear before dressed in next to nothing?
Wait a minute. This was Hattie. His best pal. Nothing was going to happen between them, regardless of how stupid her clothing choice was today.
That would have been the end of Moses’ thoughts, and their afternoon would have been spent like a hundred before it, if only Hattie had worn her old flannel shirt. Or at least kept her chemise dry.
Jake wasn’t thrilled to be chasing after two teenagers when there was work to be done. But Jane-Ellen’s pregnancy gave her notions, and it was easier to indulge them than argue with her. And a call from the operator at Central had given her the notion that Hattie and Moses Marks were swimming together down at the creek.
Jake had a hard time comprehending what all the fuss was about. Those two had been swimming together for seven years now. He doubted they were doing so nude. Hattie was a well-bred young lady, after all, and God knew, he thought cynically, well-bred young ladies were encased up to their virtuous eyebrows in maidenly modesty. So, he was rocked back on his heels to walk out of the woods and find Hattie’s maidenly modesty nowhere in sight. She was wrapped in Moses Marks’ brawny arms, their mouths fused together in a manner that, although lacking style, lacked shit-all in passion.
And although Hattie hadn’t been swimming naked, she may as well have been. For she wore nothing more than a skintight pair of boys’ swimming trunks that faithfully displayed her shapely ass, hips, and thighs, and a chemise so wet it was transparent.
Hattie was never quite certain how it happened. One minute she and Moses were horsing around in the water the way they’d done dozens of times. Then the next, as they surged to their feet in the shallows where they’d been pulling themselves along the creek bottom with their hands, they found themselves standing only inches apart. And everything changed.
Moses suddenly looked different to her. Bigger—even though he’d gained his height years ago. More . . . male. Maybe it had to do with the adult expression in his blue eyes looking down at her. Whatever it was, when he reached out to touch the cloth clinging to her breasts in transparent wrinkles, when he pulled it away from her skin, then watched as the heat of her skin sucked it back into place when he let go, she didn’t slap his hand away. She didn’t yell or blush. She just raised her gaze from where it had been following his fingers’ actions and met his.
Lifting his hand, he ran a finger down her cheek. Then he kissed her. It was like a Fourth of July explosion. Suddenly, their healthy bodies were pressed together in earnest yearning. Sensations jolted through Hattie at the feel of Moses’ tongue touching hers. She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his thick neck, pressing herself against him.
Then self-consciousness struck. The same thought flashed simultaneously through both minds. What are you doing? This is Moses. This is Hattie. Your friend.
Their lips parted. Hattie’s arms dropped to her sides. Moses loosened his grip on her waist, and they both stepped back. Sheepishness drew identical half smiles on their faces, a tacit recognition this would never happen again. And without speaking they turned toward the shore.
Where Jake Murdock stood.
Shock, embarrassment, and shame where none existed before jerked their frames, and the teens stood rooted in place, standing in the creek bed up to their calves in icy, burbling water. Abruptly aware of their lack of clothing.
Jake, too, stood stock-still, afraid to move. Consumed with rage, his mind echoed with whispers of ribald comments overheard at Mamie’s. The whores murmuring that Moses Marks was the most prodigiously endowed male in all of Mattawa. Maybe in all of Oregon. The lusty laughter as they confided the kid might be an amateur, but he was a gifted one, loaded with raw talent. Had the talented amateur been sharing his gifts with Hattie?
“Step away from her, boy,” Jake commanded, and his voice sounded as if it hadn’t been used in a century.
Moses didn’t argue with that voice or the look in Jake’s eyes. He might be ten years younger, four inches taller, and thirty pounds heavier than Jake, but there was the promise of mayhem—and a distinct possibility of death—in Murdock’s eyes should Moses not do exactly as ordered. He stepped away.
Feeling more exposed with Jake’s eyes on her than she had when Moses plucked at her chemise, Hattie desperately wished she were dressed. She was confused, embarrassed, and mortified right down to her numb toes. Ashamed. The latter emotion infuriated her, and she glared at Jake. She had done nothing to warrant this feeling. All right, maybe it hadn’t been too bright to swim in only a thin chemise instead of the flannel shirt she generally wore. But that was foolishness, not wickedness. Her and Moses’ reaction to finding themselves in such close proximity in a state of undress had been unexpected and unforeseen.
But they’d silently called a halt to the resulting emotions before anything got out of hand. Knowing Moses had seen her practically naked was awkward—yet it hadn’t seemed dirty until she discovered Jake watching them. Before that, without discussion, they had both known they weren’t willing to sacrifice their long-standing friendship for what was likely only a momentary urge to experiment. It was Jake’s reaction that made everything seem so awful. But who was he to judge them?
“Get your clothes on, Hattie,” Jake commanded roughly, and the sound of his voice galvanized her into action. She stomped past him to the bushes holding her clothes and struggled into them.
“I ought to kill you, boy,” she heard him say. “How long has this been going on?”
Hattie whirled around, buttoning her shirtwaist and stuffing it into the waistband of her skirt. “Leave him be!” she snapped. “We didn’t plan this, Jake; it just happened. And I’ll tell you something else. It didn’t seem nasty until you came along and made it that way!”
Jake almost sagged with relief, because Hattie would never bother to lie, not even to save her own stubborn hide. But he was still furious at what could have happened. “You think it’s acceptable behavior to parade practically naked in front of a grown man?” he demanded in cold fury, whirling to face her and grateful to see she was finally decently covered.
The question threw Hattie into a state of confusion. “I . . . I never thought of him as a grown man,” she confessed in a stammer. “He’s always just been my friend, and then—” She glanced over at Moses in confusion. Then, looking back at Jake, she shrugged helplessly. “He’s still my friend.”
“It won’t happen again, Jake,” Moses said quietly, pinning Jake with a steady gaze.
Jake recognized sincerity when he saw it, and it was obvious Moses was sincere. It should have calmed him. Somehow, it exacerbated the tension knotting the muscles in the back of his neck instead. “You’re damn right it won’t,” he said with cool finality. “Because you won’t be seeing her anymore.”
Jake observed the shock dilating Moses’ pupils, but it was Hattie’s response that drained the blood from Jake’s face.
“You hypocrite,” she said in a bitter little voice, striding over to confront him eye to eye. Her finger punched into Jake’s chest in time to her next words. “You sanctimonious, horrid hypocrite.” Then her arm dropped to her side as she tipped her head back to stare at him.
“Moses kissed me one time and we both told you it won’t happen again. But don’t you go flattering yourself it’s because of anything you had to say.” She stood toe to toe with him, staring up at him with contemptuous eyes. “It won’t happen because we don’t want to jeopardize our friendship. But who are you to judge, anyway? Moses is free and single, and I’m of marriageable age if that’s what we’re of a mind to do, which we aren’t. If Moses tells you he won’t do something, then he won’t. He’s honorable. He’s not a married man consorting with whores behind his wife’s back!”
“Hattie!” Moses’ voice was a disappointed reprimand behind her.
Stunned, Jake didn’t utter a word to defend himself or refute her accusation. He simply stood in front of Hattie, still as stone, feeling sick to his soul. God, how had she found out? This, then, was the reason she had been so cold since the beginning of the month.
He felt as though he’d swallowed a boulder. Somehow, it was worse having Hattie discover his guilt than if Jane-Ellen had been the one to stand there accusing him. Hattie had always treated him like a hero, and he hadn’t realized until he lost it just how much he’d treasured her unwavering faith in him. Jake tore his eyes away from her contemptuous stare and glanced over at Moses, the sickness he felt showing in his face.
“I didn’t tell her, Jake. I swear.”
Jake looked back at Hattie. There was anger in her big, whiskey-colored eyes. But, worse than that, there was disillusionment. He wanted to tell her there were extenuating circumstances. He wanted to assure her he hadn’t wanted it to happen in the first place and it wouldn’t happen again. But he couldn’t. He turned and walked away.
Moses watched Jake’s back until he disappeared from view. Then he turned to face Hattie. “Well. Do you feel better?” he inquired. “You finally lanced the wound. I’ve watched it fester in you since you saw Jake’s horse blanket at Mamie’s place, but now the poison’s all drained, isn’t it, girl? Do you feel better for it?”
“No.” Hattie gripped her stomach against a very real pain. She shook her head and discovered with some surprise her legs no longer desired to hold her weight. She sank down on the gravel shore and hugged her knees to her chest. “No, I feel perfectly horrid.” She looked up at Moses. “I thought I would, Moses. I thought I’d feel perfectly righteous if I ever confronted him with his . . . with his—” She couldn’t think what to call it. “But I guess nothing is ever the way you think it’s going to be, is it? Criminy, I never thought he’d look so lonely and defeated. And I certainly never thought confronting him would make me feel like yesterday’s horse droppings.”
She looked around the clearing, breathing in the scent of dusty evergreens under a hot noonday sun. Both arms wrapped around her middle, she turned her face to Moses. “Nothing is ever going to be the same now, is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Studying Moses’ profile as he hunkered at her side staring across the creek, Hattie couldn’t reconcile the feelings observing him created. He was at once familiar and alien. The almost-white blond hair and the thicket of pale eyelashes narrowed against the sun’s glare were the same. He had the same twelve freckles across the bridge of his nose, his eyes were still blue, and the same heavy muscles strained against the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. Just like yesterday.
Yet he wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same. Everything had changed. Moses wasn’t just her friend anymore. He was a man now, different from the boy of a thousand yesterdays.
“I’ve never been kissed like that before.” She was silent for an instant; then a wry, self-deprecatory smile tilted one corner of her mouth. “Heck. The truth is, I’ve never been kissed at all.” And I’m gonna keep to myself how much I liked it.
Moses turned his head, meeting her gaze head-on. He feigned surprise. “What’s this? The girl rumored to have the easiest virtue in all of Mattawa has never been kissed?”
“Yeah. Kinda funny, isn’t it?”
“‘Funny’ is not the word I’d use to describe it, Hattie-girl.” Moses hitched his rump over until he was sitting hip to hip with her and draped his arm around her shoulders.
Hattie let her head droop onto his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t wear my flannel shirt today.” She tilted her head back to look up into his face. “I guess I’ve been taking you too much for granted lately, haven’t I? But I didn’t mean to start anything. Honest.”
Tucking his chin into his neck, he smiled down at her. “I know that. I expect we’re both getting too old to run around half-dressed in front of each other.” His smile suddenly stretched into a grin. “You kiss real good, though, for a beginner.”
“Why, Mo-ses Marks!” She slugged him in the chest and leaped to her feet. Hands on hips, she scowled down at him in mock indignation. “You are a shameless bounder.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am. That’s what all the ladies say.”
“I bet they do,” Hattie murmured to herself, brushing the gravel from her skirt as she trailed him to the path through the woods. “I bet that is precisely what they say.”